The Shadow of the Hunt
by Jellianna Darquefyre
Summary: A story concerning entertainers, espionage, and a set of plans vital to the survival of the Rebellion.Based on my adventures in the SWG MMO with a great group of people! Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Shadows of the Hunt**

**Chapter 1**

Lieutenant Hyram Drayson felt the churn in his stomach as the old battered ST-17 shuttle coasted over the desolate, craggy wastelands of Tatooine.

He winced inwardly, wondering if the antiquated boxy shuttle was actually on its final flight.

Looking about him, he saw the unconcerned expressions on the faces of the four other passengers.

Resigning himself to his fate, Lieutenant Drayson shifted in the worn bantha hide seat and tried to find a comfortable position. The worn die creaked beneath his weight and the odor of the interior flooded his nostrils with a combination of old passengers and various operating compounds. The shuttle jounced again and began a steady, if somewhat abrupt decent. The voice of the equally antiquated AP-7 Pilot Droid emanated from the speakers, barely understandable through the static.

"We have begun our decent into Veris. Please be seated and prepare for landing."

"Crash landing," Hyram thought to himself as he pulled his seat restraints a bit tighter about his waist. His eyes drifted again to gaze through the sand scratched transparasteel window. The ruins of an ancient, half buried temple complex surrounded by a spotting of smaller single dwellings and a few larger, more modern metallic structures. Most of them were simple, unmanned mineral extractors.

There were two exceptions. One moderate sized, mining office and a second, even larger, silvery building.

He noted the mass of various speeders and swoops clustered in the front of the building and people could be seen entering and exiting the structure. His view was abruptly obstructed when the shuttle turned sharply and settled down into the open roofed ceiling of the small shuttle port.

Hyram felt the jolt as the stabilizing struts slapped onto the mud brick pavers. He groaned again as he extricated himself from the narrow seat as quickly as he could.

As soon as he left the poorly filtered air of the shuttle and entered the blazing heat and wind of Tatooine's suns was like walking through a thermal wall. Instantly his mouth was filled with the taste of Tatooine's fine dusty air.

He rubbed his eyes and followed the other passengers out of the dock and onto the receiving platform.

The other four passengers dispersed and soon he was left standing next to an old, sand scarred Protocol Droid.

He looked about for a few moments, wondering where the promised transportation was, and then he stepped over to the protocol droid.

"I was supposed to have transportation arranged for me when I arrived?" he asked.

The droids response was polite and immediate.

"I'm sorry, sir. If you seek transportation, you must first purchase a voucher for the shuttle."

"Thanks" Hyram replied gruffly as he stepped back out to the front of the building.

He set his small duffle bag down on the dusty ground and folded his arms. After nearly a half an hour, he began to consider the possibility that his contact had been eliminated, when the sound of a speeder engine began to come from the distance. Following the sound, he spied the beaten form of an old land speeder coming towards the shuttle port. The wavy haze of the shape cleared and Hyram immediately recognized the model.

It was an old X-34, a standard, inexpensive model, used by moisture farmers and surveyors. The color might at one time have been red, but most of the paint had been sandblasted away, revealing the shining silver body beneath.

The vehicle wheeled away, vanishing behind a small cluster of buildings. It reappeared and wheeled smoothly around coming to a stop before him.

At the wheel sat a pale blue Twilek male dressed in simple traveler's clothes. The driver turned to stare at him with bright pale blue eyes.

"You look like you need a ride?" he asked, flashing a smile with pointed teeth. His voice was soft and baritone with a subtle hissing beneath the words, typical of Twileks.

"I'm meeting someone," Hyram replied neutrally. "Thanks anyway."

The Twilek shrugged. "Suit yourself. But the suns are going down, and it gets cold in the desert."

Hyram perked up. "The suns are going down" had been one of the code phrases he had been instructed to listen for.

"Still," he said, watching the Twilek carefully. "I hear the colors are quite amazing?"

The Twilek smiled again. "But not like the colors on Hoth." He replied.

"Quite correct," Hyram replied with a sigh.

The Twilek also relaxed slightly.

"Master Harkam Dyson?" he asked, using Hyram's alias.

Hyram nodded, picking up his duffle. "And you are?"

"Rykran," The Twilek replied. "Hop in."

Hyram tossed his duffle in the back of the speeder and climbed into the open topped vehicle.

"So," he asked. "Where are we going?"

Rykran said nothing as he pushed the throttle forward. "Later." Was all he said.

When the speeder slowed to a stop, Hyram's jaw dropped open. Their destination was the last place he would have wanted or expected. He looked up at the steps leading into Heavenly Bodies. The edifice might at one time have been a private mansion, or perhaps even a guild hall.

Now, however, it had apparently been transformed into a rather large and boisterous cantina.

"We're, " Hyram began, but Rykran merely gestured to the open entrance.

"Follow me, please."

Feeling a sense of dread beginning to knot in his belly, Hyram Drayson followed his guide up the steps and into the cantina.

When they came out of the narrow corridor, Hyram's jaw dropped. Heavenly Bodies was more a dancers club than a cantina.

Scantily clad entertainers of various species moved cheerfully between the comfortably appointed tables and chairs.

Rykran paused for a moment and smiled a toothy grin as he saw Hyram's expression.

Up on the stage, a tall, slender human dancer slowly peeled the outer layer of her clothing off, eliciting cheers from the rowdy crowd of prospectors gathered at the edge.

"I think there's been some kind of error," Hyram managed to stutter as he tore his gaze away from the young dancing girl.

Rykran's gaze and smile increased in amusement.

"This way, if you will?" He gestured to an adjoining corridor and led Hyram down this new hall.

The corridor ended in a small, and comfortably appointed waiting room.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mister Dyson" Rykran offered, indicating the plush chairs. "Can I get you a drink, sir?"

"No, thank you," Hyram replied, finally in control of himself after his experience in the main hall before.

Rykran nodded once and left.

Hyram found the seat that was as far away from the entrance and back against the wall. He seated himself and looked up and back at the stairs rising to the second story behind him. All the while, his sense of dread continued to grow.

He quickly reviewed his mission brief, running the details through his mind.

Arrive at Mos Eisley and take the shuttle to the Ruins of Veris. Contact will meet there, code phrases "It gets cold in the desert", "The colors are quite amazing", and "Not like the colors on Hoth," had all been used, as had been his new alias "Harkam Dyson".

He suddenly noted that the timetable had been limited only to his flight itinerary.

Meet with contact, identified only as J.D. and enlist for current operation, coded "DSX1".

Now, instead of the usual fast moving cloak and dagger that he was accustomed to, he was sitting in the waiting area, outside the office of, well, there was no other name for it, a Tatooine strip club.

After fifteen minutes of nervous anxiety, another Twilek, a dark skinned female this time, floated into the room. She smiled warmly and fixed him with her demonic red eyes.

"Mister Dyson?" she asked in a soft, husky voice.

Hyram tried to ignore the extremely revealing wrap of dark cloth that barely covered her slender body.

She paused, as if she were giving him a chance to take her seductive figure in completely.

"Uh, yes," he finally managed to stammer.

She smiled and gave a friendly nod. "Ienna Moneshi. Come in, please?"

She gestured towards the open doorway of the small office. Her every movement and gesture seemed to be a seduction.

Gulping down a sudden nervousness that had nothing to do with his current assignment, Hyram Drayson followed his darkly seductive hostess into a small, but finely appointed office.

Ienna removed a fine silk robe from a peg on the wall and slid her arms into the soft, smooth fabric. She tied the thin drawstring and folded herself into a fine chair behind a simple, curved glass top desk.

Hyram felt only a small sense of relief when she put the garment on. In spite of the fact that his hostess was now fully clothed, the memory of what he had just seen, along with the way the sheer fabric followed the flow of Ienna's form had not helped his distraction much.

Ienna picked up an old, battered data pad and keyed in a series of commands. There was a soft high pitched whine that rose beyond the capacity of his hearing.

"There," Ienna said easily. "We can now converse freely."

"I'm sorry?" Hyram asked cautiously. "I don't know what you mean?"

Ienna laughed quietly. "It's quite all right, Lieutenant Drayson." Her smile widened as she saw his expression. It was non committal, and yet, he had tensed ever so slightly.

"Yes," she reassured him. "I know who you are and I know why you have come." Her smile faded slightly. "Unfortunately, circumstances have dictated that you meet with me instead of your initial contact."

Any change should be treated as suspicious and you should divulge nothing without confirmation from command.

"Forgive me, Miss Moneshi," Hyram said evenly. "But I still don't know what you are talking about? I arrived here for a meeting with the Potulli Mining Company, regarding mineral rights in this area?"

Ienna smiled agreeably. "By stating your business, you have already allayed any of my concerns."

She reached back to the data pad and hit several more switches.

To his immediate left, the large colorful painting showing a gentle, flora filled landscape suddenly flashed in a flare of static, and then the image of General Carlest Reekan appeared within the fancy border.

"Ienna," The General said dryly. "I'm happy to find you clothed."

Ienna smiled at the jibe. "Always a pleasure, General."

Reekan's eyes turned towards Hyram. "Lieutenant Drayson, you seem a bit flustered?"

Hyram did his best to assume a mildly confused expression. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped. He was playing the part that his cover dictated, that of a simple businessman out of sorts.

"This is all very intriguing," he stammered. "However, I really-"

Reekan let his lips curl upwards only slightly behind his beard.

"Identity code Alpha Green, seven, nine, seven five, echo," Reekan recited dutifully. "Superior work in maintaining your cover, Lieutenant." He turned back to Ienna. "I assume that something has come up?"

"I'm afraid it has, General," Ienna replied. "Our operative is six hours overdue."

"There was a window in this operation," Reekan replied in a neutral tone. "There's still four hours left before we should begin to consider contingencies."

Ienna nodded soberly. Hyram could clearly see the concern etched on her exotic features.

"In the mean time, Lieutenant," General Reekan continued.

"Sir?" Hyram returned his gaze to the image.

"Proceed as instructed," Reekan ordered. "Miss Moneshi will be your primary contact until J.D. returns. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hyram replied.

"Good luck," General Reekan concluded. This his steely gaze turned back to Ienna.

"Miss Moneshi. A pleasure, as always."

"Likewise," Ienna nodded, forcing a soft smile.

The image blinked out and once again, Hyram was staring at the serene painted landscape.

He turned back to Ienna and a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Very impressive," he said.

Ienna nodded. "I understand your need to maintain your cover, given the circumstances. Things have not been going smoothly these last months. Not since the Empire began cracking down on security issues in the Core."

"That part of what I wished to speak with you about," Hyram began, reaching for his duffle.

Ienna held up a hand to forestall him.

"If you please, Mister Dyson," she said quickly. I would prefer that the briefing be held in a more secure area." She pressed a button on the data pad and then rose.

"Follow me, please?" she offered her arm.

Hyram let her slide her slender arm around his elbow, and let her lead him back into the wild cacophony that was the main dance hall.

Try as he might, Hyram Drayson found that he was unable to keep from looking out at the various dancers moving about the place.

The tall, slender blonde dancer still writhed slowly to the music, her clothes completely gone. She caught the look from Ienna and gave a subtle nod.

"Stand, just here, Mister Dyson," Ienna said in his ear. "Just a moment."

Her eyes caught the attention of another dancer, a pale skinned Xabraxin with a golden hue to her skin and small horns protruding from her scalp on either side of a long flowing shock of dark thick hair. The Xabraxin smiled a smile that was filled with mischief and quickly slid up onto the stage next to the blonde.

"Ashlay and Kaylee," Ienna explained with a smile. "Very good at causing distractions."

The blonde human saw the dark haired Xabraxin moving up to join her on the stage, smiled, and shifted her position slightly.

The Xabraxin, Ashlay, Slid up in front of the naked Kaylee and the two moved in sensuous synchronicity for a moment.

Then Ashlay reached up with one hand, put a finger under Kaylee's chin, and kissed her passionately, full on the mouth.

Cheers and hoots erupted from the throng of spectators. Shoulders were slapped and gestured made, pulling all eyes to the new spectacle.

Ienna scanned the crowd, making certain that all eyes were averted.

"Now," she said, and she pulled Hyram backwards through a hanging tapestry and into a concealed turbo lift.

The door hissed shut and the lift descended.

"Very effective," Hyram finally said once he had cleared the lump from his throat.

Ienna laughed quietly. "As I said, they are quite effective at causing distractions."

The rain that fell was thick, like a mixture of oil and water. It flowed in streams down the ferrocrete walls and collected in dark, glistening pools on the ground around her as she stood, miserable in the shadows of the Corescant alley.

In dryer, more temperate climes, she would have been considered pretty, even beautiful by some standards. Her dark, matted, wet hair was usually a luxurious, fiery red, and would have framed the delicate features that it now masked in drowned stringy strands. She was of average height and athletic build, as outlined by the flow of the now drenched dark flight suit she wore.

It was not a rugged, fighter pilots suit. She preferred the lighter, less cumbersome traders' model of a more utilitarian design. This particular one, when dry would have been a deep maroon, now darker from the rain and the impurities that mixed with it in the city planet's dense industrial atmosphere.

The incessant droning noise of the rain made it nearly impossible to hear anyone approaching, and she scanned the surrounding shadows of the industrial complex with eyes that were too green to be entirely human, a by-product of the joining of her human mother with a Zabraxan father.

Aside from this unique peculiarity, her eyes were the only things that belied her true heritage, a heritage that she took pride in, despite Emperor Palpatine's doctrine of human purity.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings again and a slight feeling of unease began to crawl up her spine with a chill augmented by the damp conditions.

"Come on, Capee," she whispered aloud to the rain. "Where the hell are you two?"

She looked at her chrono again and sighed as much from the anxiety as the discomfort. Her contacts were fifteen minutes late, which was completely unlike them.

Bothans, as a rule, even those involved in espionage, were always on time. And her two most reliable contacts, Capee and Slight, were counted among the best even by Bothan standards. The fact that they were late did not bode well for this particular operation.

A flicker of movement from the end of the alley caught her attention. It was a subtle change in shadow and movement, too finite for human eyes to have seen. The small, humanoid form came around the corner at a quick jog. There was no stealth involved.

"Jellianna?" the soft female voice hissed urgently.

Jellianna stepped from her place of concealment and met the smaller Bothan half way down the alley.

"Capee!" she hissed.

Capee was a little less than a meter and a half in height and willowy in build, covered in thin, dark fur that, like Jellianna, was soaked through her black infiltration suit. Her ears flicked forward and then back in the direction she had come as she ran quickly to her friend and pressed a data card into her hand.

"Run," Capee growled in a voice that was near to panic. She had a wild, almost haunted look in her eyes.

"Cap!" Jellianna hissed. "What's wrong?" She glanced back down the dark alley and then back down at her friend.

"Capee? Where's Slight?"

The diminutive Bothan's wide eyes got even wider as the panic in them increased. Jellianna read the expression and knew. The revelation hit her like a proton torpedo explosion.

"We have to get out of here," She said quickly as she took Capee's arm.

"No!" Capee hissed. She wrenched herself free. "You go!"

"Cap!" Jellianna looked down at her friend in surprise.

"He no know you!" Capee said. Her ears flicked back towards the way she had come. "He know Capee…he know Slight…he know Mystic!"

Now the terror in Capee's eyes reached out and took hold of Jellianna's heart.

"He knows about the Mystic?"

Capee's ears flicked again, and this time, Jellianna heard the unmistakable sound of a footfall in one of the countless puddles beyond.

"Go!" Capee hissed again, pushing her away. "Take data and go!"

She turned and bolted. Back the way she had come. Jellianna knew she was running right past the junction where her pursuer would be approaching.

She wanted to call out, but she held back, understanding the sacrifice that the Bothan was about to make. She quickly ducked around the corner of the building and peered back, hopefully.

Maybe Capee could lose this pursuer and she would meet up with her friend later, steal another ship and get off this nightmare planet.

Then she heard a voice, soft, deep, melodic and filed with a cold calm that froze the blood in her veins.

"Here precious."

She saw a figure emerge at the far end of the alley, massive in size and knotted with muscle. The head turned, looking up and down the alley. She heard the stranger sniff, as if he were trying to catch an elusive scent.

Jellianna's mouth dropped open in horror when his head turned in her direction. In the flash of lightning, she saw his face. It was rugged, chiseled and handsome, with dark olive colored skin and deep close cropped brown hair and beard. But it was his eyes that frightened her the most. His deep, cold yellow eyes and the bulky LD1 rifle in his hands.

He had to be over two meters tall, and his size made the large rifle seem small and light by comparison.

His golden eyes turned back away and then his head snapped around and he smiled with teeth almost too pointed to be human.

"There you are, precious," he smiled, and he raised the rifle.

Capee bolted down the alley. The man turned quickly and aimed, firing one staccato shot. The blast caught the small Bothan in the middle of her back, igniting in a burst of fire and flinging the unfortunate victim forward several yards before she rolled through the water and came to a stop.

Jellianna clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that nearly exploded from her lungs.

The man looked back up the alley towards her place of concealment, as if to make certain he was alone. Then he turned and walked calmly towards the corpse of Capee, steaming in the puddle.

The lightning flashed again, and in the blinding white flare, Jellianna saw another sight, more horrible than the death of her friend.

Between the massive shoulders of the man hung a simple dark colored back pack, and lashed to the surface of the pack was a smaller bundle.

Jellianna's eyes went wide as she recognized the pattern of dark colors on the extraneous bundle. They were the colors of fur. Bothan fur.

She spun back in horror as she realized that this man had not only hunted her friends, he had treated it just like a real hunt, and taken the trophies of his adventure.

Forcing the horror back into her belly, she peeked back around the corner, jus in time to see the man draw a long, wide bladed knife and slice into his latest kill, cleaning the corpse.

Jellianna turned and, struck blind by revulsion and panic, she fled deeper into the bowels of the industrial center.

She reached the small apartment that served as the Alliance Safe House and ducked into the sparsely furnished street level apartment. Her mind was whirling with the horror of what she had just seen, and the images that her mind created about what had happened immediately after she had seen her friend killed.

She quickly stripped out of her flight suit and stuffed it into the incinerator. Then she ran into the refresher station and before she could stop it, she fell before the commode and the vomit belched forth from her belly in a series of violent chokes.

The quarters were enormous and lavishly appointed, though dimly lit. The big man stepped into the entry foyer, unconcerned about the copious amounts of oily water dripping onto the fine tile floor. His golden eyes pierced the darkness.

A single, ominous sound permeated the apartment. It was the slow regular sound of an artificial breathing apparatus. The breaths were deep, long, with a subtle hissing, like an old pressure regulator expelling extra gas.

Even he knew which Imperial was associated with that sound. In the years since Palpatine's rise to power, very few people in the galaxy did not know the name of his first lieutenant: The infamous Darth Vader.

The man released his hold on the two robed crimson guards that had attempted to search him, letting their limp bodies fall to the floor with a series of satisfying thumps.

He heard a rustle of movement from within the apartment.

"We're in here," A familiar, wizened voice called agreeably. "Join us."

The man passed deeper into the apartment and found himself in a large office gallery. The entire back wall was made of transparasteel and showed an incredible vista of the spires and needle like buildings of the city planet.

The view silhouetted the looming, robed shape of Lord Vader, standing to the right of another figure, also hooded and robed in black, and seated behind a massive desk.

The indicators on Vader's chest plate glowed an ominous crimson and blue in the feeble light.

The man considered the boldly vulnerable apparatus on Vader's chest.

"One blaster shot to that equipment," he thought. "And the mighty Darth Vader would fall like any other man."

Darth Vader's arms rose and crossed over his chest and he said knowingly. "You would not be the first to try."

The man raised a single reddish brown eyebrow, as if amused by the fact that Lord Vader had read his thoughts so easily.

He turned and nodded his head to the Emperor. "My Lord."

The Emperor gestured to his newest guest as he looked up at Darth Vader.

"Lord Vader," he said easily. "I present to you, one Huntir Ayala."

Vader nodded his helmeted head once.

"Master Ayala caught my attention when we pacified the world of Rori some months ago. He gave our troops a merry chase and cost us no less than two dozen of my finest stormtroopers in his arrest."

His head gazed out past his guest at the two corpses lying in the foyer.

"I see that city life has not atrophied your survival skills, Huntir."

Huntir glanced back at the bodies of the Crimson Guards and then shrugged unapologetically. "They were most insistent that I not be allowed to bring my package to you." A frosty smile just touched the corners of his mouth. "I convinced them otherwise."

His voice was low, almost a growl, and his golden eyes held the Emperor's burning gaze for a long time without flinching.

"I have a gift for you," he continued as he unslung the black pack from his shoulders. He released the small straps binding two other objects to the container and let the contents roll out onto the carpeted floor.

The two hides unrolled easily, assuming vaguely humanoid shapes.

The Emperor leaned forward slightly to look upon the grisly trophies with red rimmed eyes. The gray wrinkles of his face curled into an appreciative smile.

"These are the ones who attempted to break into my research facility tonight?"

"Yes," The man nodded, his golden eyes never leaving the Emperor.

The Emperor sighed theatrically. "What is it about Bothans and this desire for subterfuge? Surely they must have realized that they could not possibly have been able to penetrate the security measures of that facility."

"In point of fact," The big man said evenly. "They did."

"Did what?" The Emperor asked, his eyes returning from the skins on the floor to lock onto Huntir's golden eyes.

"These two managed to penetrate the defenses of your facility, My Lord," Huntir explained. He removed a data card from one of the pockets in his pack and handed it to the Emperor. "As you can see, they did not succeed in leaving, however." His toe absently flipped a corner of the fresh skin.

The Emperor received the card with a genteel smile. "Have you seen the information on this card, Master Ayala?"

Huntir smiled, truly smiled, for the first time. "I have not, Your Eminence. I am not interested in your political games and dark corner dealings. I look only as far as the hunt, and that satisfies me completely."

The Emperor smiled appreciatively as he received the card.

"You see, Lord Vader," he said. "Efficient as well as discreet."

"It is a matter of survival, Your Eminence," Huntir said with a frosty smile. "If I had read that card and told you I had not, you would have known that I was lying and that would have made me a liability to your endeavors. If I had read it and told you, then I would have only been an honest liability, but a liability, none the less. A liability that you might consider needed to be removed."

"Indeed," The Emperor nodded, smiling in appreciation. "A matter of survival, on your part."

"Yes," Huntir nodded.

The Emperor slid the datacard into the port on his desk and watched as the information scrolled up before his yellow eyes.

His expression went rigid for a moment, and then his lips curled into a grotesque expression. He drew the data card out and it suddenly incinerated in a flash of blue at his fingertips.

"This is a recipe for Bothan Tea!" He snarled. His red rimmed eyes flashed again on Huntir.

"You said there was no other person in that alley!"

"That I saw," Huntir replied easily, as if he were amused by this outburst.

"That you saw!" The Emperor repeated angrily.

"There were no other Bothans in the area, My Emperor," Huntir said. "That I am certain of. However, that does not discount the possibility of another species being present and undetected. The female may have bolted in her particular direction, not out of panic, but as a final attempt at deception."

"A deception that succeeded, apparently!" The Emperor replied.

Huntir looked up at Darth Vader who stood unmoving at the Emperor's side, his helmeted eyes fixed on Huntir. The mask belied no emotion, no hint of any human facet, and yet, Huntir sensed that the big Jedi was amused by this turn of events.

"Is the ship that the Bothans arrived in, still under surveillance at the Star Port, Lord Vader?" Huntir asked.

"It is," Vader replied.

Huntir turned back to the Emperor. It seemed that the older man was deciding whether or not he should burn the big man down where he stood.

"If I may be able to inspect their ship, My Lord," Huntir said quickly. "I may be able to determine where they came from and where they were going, after they got what they came for?"

The Emperor's rage cooled for a moment, partly because the idea had merit, and also because the fury had failed to elicit any reaction from the big man.

"Very well, Master Ayala," he said. His genteel smile reasserted itself. "I shall give you the opportunity to correct this error." He turned to the looming shadow beside him. "Lord Vader. You shall accompany Master Ayala, and assist in his efforts."

"As you wish, My Master," The helmeted behemoth replied with a slight nod.

"Do whatever you must to track down the remaining traitors in our midst, and return the information they stole to me." The Emperor's eyes drifted back down to the skins on the floor. "Along with the head of the individual or individuals who hold the information."

"On a platter?" Huntir asked, a slightly amused grin appearing on his face.

The Emperor's icy smile matched that of the tracker. "Is there any other way?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Mystic was a small, simple, somewhat boxy freighter. The kind used by package delivery companies for smaller cargo runs. It was a common enough model, which was why it hadn't aroused much suspicion when it had arrived three days prior.

Imperial Intelligence had been hard pressed to gain any information about possible Rebel activity in the system for some weeks, so when a particularly astute cargo manager at Courescant's star port had commed, inquiring about a delivery shuttle that had been sitting idle for two days, Intelligence had begun a background check on the cargo transport, Mystic.

The routine report had turned up nothing significant at first. The ship had been purchased from Billinar Cargo Transport some six months prior, the purchaser listed as Ilios Ilecerka, a botanist from Yag Duhl. Records revealed that the ship had been flown to Rori for an extensive refit at Hassenhoff's Personal Transport Company.

However, deeper inquiries that would have taken several days were stepped up and revealed that H.T.C. had been a suspected Rebel front for a number of months. Instantly, the Mystic was placed under covert surveillance.

It was due to this surveillance, that Imperial Intelligence was able to intercept and later decrypt a short burst message that was beamed to the Mystic.

The message simply read. "Bilar Computations – 2100 hrs"

When Imperial Decryptionists had unscrambled the code, they had only forty-five minutes to scramble a security team to the location.

Suddenly, this simple, unobtrusive freighter had become very, very important. Initially, operatives had asked for permission to enter the craft and perform a search. However, when an order came down from Lord Vader that the craft was not to be touched, no one considered objecting.

Darvic Estonine smoked his tabacc stick with nervous fervor as he listened to the approaching footfalls that he knew were the boots of at least a squad of Imperial Stormtroopers. When Lord Vader himself and another man preceded the troopers, Darvic quickly dropped the tabacc stick and stamped it out.

He heard an audible gulp from the man standing beside him.

Darvic was an average sized man, in good physical condition, with dark grey hair and clear dark eyes. The typical Imperial Intelligence agent. His features were handsome, but not too memorable, his voice was as easily captivating as it was forgotten. By contrast, the cargo manager next to him, one Alsric Symone, was bald and portly, his bald head beaded with sweat the moment the flowing black shape of Darth Vader came into view.

"You didn't say anything about Lord Vader coming don here personally," he managed to squeak.

Darvic locked his eyes on the approaching entourage and fixed on the man behind and to the side of Vader.

"I didn't know he was coming," he answered Alsric absently.

The man behind Vader was large, both in stature and build, knotted with muscle and dressed in simple pants, hide boots and a primitive looking dark hide vest. A belt hung loosely about his waist and several items dangled from it at various points.

While the size and musculature of the man was indeed noteworthy, it was the inhuman golden color of his eyes that fed his sense of fear the most. They shone with a pitiless light that Darvic could only call unholy.

"Captain Estonine," Darth Vader said as he came to a halt before the two men. Behind him, the gleaming stormtroopers snapped to a halt.

"Greetings, My Lord," Darvic nodded his head once with military precision.

Vader's helmeted head turned to look upon the nervous Cargo Manager.

"Is this the man that contacted us?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Darvic replied when it was clear by Alsric's pallor and expression that he was incapable of answering on his own.

"Master Alsric Symone," Darvic finished quickly.

Vader's gaze stayed on the portly manager, as if sizing him up. Then the helmet nodded once. "You have done well, Alsric. You will find some credits have been deposited into your personal account as thanks from the Empire."

"Uh, thank you, My Lord," Alsric managed to splutter.

Vader waived his hand in a dismissive gesture and the terrified Alsric exited the room as quickly as his portly frame would allow him.

Vader stepped up to the conference room window that looked down upon the hanger bay. He quickly spied the six agents who had mingled in with the regular ground crews. They went about their business, just like any other worker, but he could sense their duplicity through the Force. They were all waiting for someone to try and enter the ship. All of them eager to spring the trap.

"Commander," Vader said without turning.

Behind him, the first stormtrooper stood a bit straighter.

"Sir," his voice issued through the speaker on his helmet.

"Conceal yourselves in the main corridor outside this hanger and wait for my signal." Vader instructed.

"Yes, sir." The trooper replied. In unison, the entire squad did an about face and marched quickly back the way they had come.

"Captain Estonine," Vader resumed, once the three of them were alone. "Has there been any activity around that ship?"

"No, My Lord," Darvic replied smartly. "As far as we can tell, the ship has remained idle since it was discovered. Apart from the initial transmission we intercepted, there has been nothing at all from the Mystic."

There was an audible thunk as the big man set his back pack on the conference room table.

"Master Ayala?" Darth Vader asked as Huntir drew a compact EE-3 Carbine rifle from the long pouch hanging at his right hip, behind his pistol holster.

"I'm going into that ship," Huntir said simply. He checked the charge on his weapon and thumbed off the safety catch.

"Indeed?" Vader asked with a touch of amusement that even his vocal augmenter could not hide.

Huntir stepped to the window or the conference room and looked down at the dark view ports on the front of the ship.

"You can keep this ship under surveillance until the sun explodes, Lord Vader," Huntir said. "It would do no good. Whoever owned that ship is not coming back."

"And how do you know this?" Darvic asked. There was more than a touch of suspicion in his voice.

"Because, the people that were supposed to fly it are now decorating the floor of the Emperor's office. If there were any other accomplices, they would have been back here by now and tried to take the ship."

He turned and strode out the door

Vader turned to Darvic. "Are there any other vessels that have been parked here, or in any nearby ports, for an extended period of time?"

"I'm quite sure there would be dozens, My Lord," Darvic replied. "Sloops, yachts, personal transports, everything from Scyk Light Fighters all the way up to Corellian Corvettes."

Vader considered for a moment and then turned in a swirl of dark fabric and followed Huntir.

"This is Captain Estonine," Darvic said quickly into his com. "Lord Vader and an associate are coming to inspect the ship, do not react, repeat, do not react."

Darth Vader came up behind Huntir as he examined the entry pad on the Mystic's hatch.

"You can bypass this?" Vader asked.

"Yes," Huntir replied. He pressed a few random keys and heard the irritating tweedle of an improper entry code. Then he stepped back and a little to his right as he raised his blaster.

"And if the hatch is trapped?" Vader asked.

Huntir smiled coldly as he aimed at the keypad. "Then we can both go together, My Lord."

Jellianna came around the corner and quickly ducked into the Star Port. She tried to remain calm and push the horrible images from her mind as she moved down the corridor and towards the main hanger entrance.

As she passed one of the closed doors in the main terminal corridor, she heard the muffled, but unmistakable sound of stormtroopers, speaking idly through their com units.

Alarm bells sounded in her head. She slowed her pace a bit and scanned a nearby bank of monitors. A local city transport was about to dock at the adjoining transit station. At most she had five minutes to either get the Mystic and get out of here, or find another mode of transportation. She checked her chrono again and saw that she had less than an hour to get off planet and make the jump to light speed if she were going to make her rendezvous.

The corridor was only moderately busy, with commuters going to and fro on errands as numerous as their numbers.

She made her way to the collection of flat screens that showed arrival and departure information for the various commercial flights in the port and pretended to study them as she looked beyond into the hanger.

The place was dark and nearly deserted. Only a few techs moving back and forth within the large chamber that she could see.

She had just summoned enough courage to make her move when she saw him, stepping towards the ship. She froze as she watched the strange butcher that had killed her friends began to tap keys on the entry pad.

A second figure, even more ominous tan this butcher soon joined him. Her mouth fell open and her blood ran chill when she saw Darth Vader step up next to her ship.

The man stepped back away from the hatch and fired one blaster shot into the keypad. Then a second into the hatch itself.

"Can I help you, miss?" A clipped voice asked politely from behind her.

Jellianna practically jumped out of her skin. She spun around and forced a nervous laugh.

Standing behind her was a young man, about twenty, in the uniform of a port steward. He was young and not unattractive, with a sincere expression on his face. He also jumped a bit when she spun around.

"You startled me," she said, putting a hand over her heart.

"Sorry about that," The young steward said. Then his eyes flicked up to the flat screen.

"Oh," Jellianna continued. "Do you know what the delay is with flight nine forty, from Talus?"

The steward offered an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid all traffic, in and out has been halted for the time being."

"Really?" Jellianna feigned surprise. "Why?"

"I'm afraid I cannot go into the reasons, Miss," The steward replied. "But it looks like the delay may be a lengthy one."

Jellianna nodded, looking back up at the flat screens and watching as all the arrival and departure notices changed from schedules times to the word 'DELAYED' in rapid succession.

"I see," she said.

Huntir Entered the Mystic preceded by the short barrel of his blaster carbine. His golden eyes checked the main hold. Behind him, the massive bulk of Darth Vader followed him in, his heavy boots thudding on the deck plates.

Huntir paused and sniffed. The air was stuffy and dry, but there was an underlying musk that the scrubbers had not eliminated.

His boot slid gently back and forth across the floor in front of him and a small, knowing smile crept across his lips.

"You've found something?" Vader asked.

"Perhaps," Huntir replied. He resumed moving towards the flight deck, his weapon leading the way.

They finished a quick check of the ship, finding no other passengers in hiding. Then Huntir slid into the small seat at the navigation console and began keying in commands.

After a few moments, he realized that his efforts were a waste of time. He closed down the console.

"They have wiped the data core," he said dutifully. "Probably did it in orbit, before landing."

"So you don't know where the ship came from," Vader said, clearly displeased.

"I didn't say that," Huntir replied as he began searching the various small storage compartments for clues.

"The ship came from Tatooine," he continued as he rifled through another compartment. "Mos Eisley, if I am not mistaken."

"And how would you deduce that?" Vader asked.

I can smell it in the air of the ship," Huntir explained as his massive arm stretched into another compartment. "And there is no sand like that of Tatooine. Some of it is on the floor, just inside the hatch, so, that is where the ship came from."

"And why, Mos Eisley?" Vader's normally menacing growl had a slightly lighter tone to it. It was as if he was actually interested in how Huntir had arrived at his conclusions.

"Well," Huntir continued as he moved to another storage compartment. "Mos Espa is a Rebellion hub, we all know that…to leave from there would be inviting suspicion. Bestine is in Imperial control, so they never would have been able to land there in the first place, let alone leave. Anchorhead does not have the facilities to handle a ship such as this, and Mos Veris was deserted and demolished a number of years ago."

His arm froze and his smile widened.

"Mos Eisley is a known smuggler's den, despite the Empires best efforts to clean it up. It's controlled by the Hutts, which keeps the Imperial presence at bay, and affords enough back alley opportunities, that a ship like this would not even be noticed. They could come and go as they please."

His arm drew out a wadded bundle of light purple cloth.

"Or, rather, she could," he corrected himself.

"She?" Vader asked.

Huntir held up the cloth. "This is a dancer's fleshwrap. A revealing little number used by entertainers of various species."

He reached back into the compartment a second time and felt about.

"The absence of a matching lekku wrap suggests that it belongs to another humanoid species."

He raised the cloth to his nostrils and sniffed.

"Human," he said after a moment of consideration. "And since this is not regular garb for your average citizen, I would say further that we are looking for a young, attractive woman."

"I see," Darth Vader nodded.

Huntir finished his inspection of the ship, but found nothing else. As they stepped down the ramp and back onto the hanger floor Darth Vader noticed one of the port stewards standing near the large open entrance, speaking with a young woman. Her fiery red hair shone like copper in the garish light of the hall.

He stretched out, through the force and touched the young woman's mind. Instantly, he discovered her fear, despite her calm exterior. She was running from something.

"You said a young, attractive woman," He said as Huntir came down the ramp behind him.

"I did," Huntir nodded.

"She is there," Vader pointed at the entrance.

Instantly, Huntir's weapon shot up and he aimed at the woman. Then the steward, completely unaware of the situation, moved into his line of fire.

"Troop commander," Vader said in his comlink. "Deploy now. Target is a young, red haired female, standing outside the main hanger."

"My Lord," the Stormtrooper Comander replied sharply.

Huntir ran forward, his weapon raised.

"Wait," Vader ordered, but it was too late.

The young woman saw the massive man coming towards her, saw the weapon pointed at her, and reacted. Her foot came up in a vicious round house kick, smacking the jaw of the steward. His body spun away and slammed into the ferrocrete arch before bouncing back across her body and collapsing onto the floor. At the same moment, she darted from view as Huntir fired a single shot which struck the flatscreens behind her.

The flatscreens exploded in a shower of sparks and fragmented machinery. The flash momentarily blinded him and he stumbled the last few steps before reaching the hall.

He raised his rifle for a second shot, but the girl vanished around the corner out of sight.

Further down the hall, the stormtroopers came jogging quickly from the opposite direction.

"That way!" Huntir shouted, pointing at the spot. "She went that way!"

Then his throat seemed to constrict suddenly and his weapon fell to the ground.

Turning, he saw Darth Vader stalking towards him.

"I told you to wait," he said in a menacing growl.

Instinct overrode everything else, and the big man lashed out with his ebbing strength towards the glowing panel on Vader's chest.

Vader easily deflected the blow, but the distraction had been enough. Blessed air flowed into his lungs just before he was flung against the far wall, beside the shattered flatscreens.

The fresh air exploded back out of his chest with the impact and he slid to the floor.

"Do not defy me," Vader said with barely contained anger.

"I apologize," Huntir choked out as he struggled to rise.

Vader turned to the prone form of the steward lying nearby. The man lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with vacant eyes, his nose smashed into his face. The result of the kick was clear. It had propelled the man into the wall, where that impact had shattered the nose, sending the fragments of bone deep into the man's skull. He was dead.

Vader looked at the body once more and then back at Huntir. Then he turned and walked down the hall towards the branch that the spy had taken.

The stormtroopers emerged in an orderly group, out on the rainy street of Courescant and fanned out in their search, searching among the masses for their quarry.

A few moments later, the ominous form of Darth Vader also emerged, his dark helmet searching left and right as the crowds moved nervously past him.

Some stopped in their tracks, while most simply diverted from their planned path and moved quickly away. There wasn't a citizen in the Empire that did not know the reputation of Emperor Palpatine's first lieutenant. No one wanted to be the focus of the Jedi's attention.

"I'm sorry, Lord Vader," The Stormtrooper Commander said. "We lost her."

"Clear this street and set up a perimeter," Vader ordered. "Find her."

"Sir." The stormtrooper snapped a salute and turned, speaking through his comlink.

Huntir stepped up behind Darth Vader, his golden eyes scanning the receding masses.

"She's gone, Lord Vader," He admitted. Then he frowned and moved down the street towards a public trash incinerator. Reaching in, he withdrew a crumpled jacket – her jacket.

Smiling, he held the coat up and sniffed it. The scent was identical to that of the wrap within the Mystic. The same female.

"She is the one," he said. "She has the data."

"Troop Commander," Vader wheeled to face the Stormtrooper Commander.

"Sir," The trooper responded sharply.

"Call out as many men as you need," Vader ordered. "Seal off every star port, search every private pad, I want that girl found and brought to me, alive!"

"Very good, sir." The stormtrooper replied.

TBC


End file.
